


A Typical Day In Eureka

by burglebezzlement



Category: Eureka (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mad Science, Seals (Animals), career exploration, grant proposals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:16:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7223773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burglebezzlement/pseuds/burglebezzlement
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Day In The Life of Dr. Allison Blake, PhD, Director, Global Dynamics<br/>A Career Exploration Project by Zoe Carter</p><p>A facility full of mad scientists needs a mad administrator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Typical Day In Eureka

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roseveare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseveare/gifts).



> Dear Every Woman recip — I hope you enjoy this! Allison Blake’s always been one of my favorite characters from Eureka, and I’ve always figured she has a lot of ways of saving the day, only some of which made it into the show.
> 
> This takes place in Season Three, after Allison becomes the Director of GD and before the timeline shift. Zoe’s still in high school.

INT. DIRECTOR’S OFFICE, GLOBAL DYNAMICS - DAY

ZOE looks into the camera.

ZOE

Hello! I’m Zoe Carter. Welcome to the office of Doctor Allison Blake, director of Global Dynamics.

ZOE pans the camera to show the interior of the office. ALLISON BLAKE sits behind a desk.

* * *

The camera’s one of Dr. Ling’s newest — a tiny button cam with a screen bigger than the camera itself. Zoe’s got it on a grip. She holds the screen up to her eye and faces Allison.

“So what is a typical day like as the director of GD?” Zoe asks.

“There is no typical day in Eureka,” Allison says, smiling.

“Yeah, I know,” Zoe says, dropping out of her interview voice. “But we’ve got this list of stupid questions we have to cover.”

“I still don’t understand why you chose me for this project,” Allison says, pulling up a sheaf of e-documents for review. “I’m mostly a paper-pusher.”

Zoe keeps the camera steady. “Paper-pusher? That’s not what Dad says.”

True. But the whole science-on-demand to solve scientific crises part of Allison’s job description… well, it’s not officially _in_ the job description. It’s just that someone ends up having to solve things around here.

“So why not do your project on your dad?” Allison asks. “His job’s pretty interesting. Or Jo’s.”

“Like anyone at Tesla is looking to be a Federal Marshall.” Zoe makes a face. “And you know Jo would just lock me in one of the cells as soon as anything interesting happened.”

“Might be interesting for your classmates to see a different type of job.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Zoe says. “I figure everyone else is going to follow their parents around, and they’re all scientists.” She looks up from the camera quickly, like she just realized that maybe…. “Not that you’re not a scientist! I mean their parents are _just_ scientists.”

“I get it,” Allison says. “Might be pretty boring, though. I’ve got to get through this stack of approvals this morning.”

“Go ahead,” Zoe says, from behind the camera. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

Allison’s got to hand it to the kid — she makes it through forty-five minutes of filming Allison working at her desk.

Not that Zoe’s staying still. She’s getting up, playing with camera angles, presumably trying to find one that makes Allison reviewing a grant application for the mucous research program look interesting and heroic.

“You can ask me more questions,” Allison says, not looking up from a safety analysis for a program involving research into woodpeckers and potential applications to human migraines. 

Zoe sighs, like _thank Archimedes_ , but then Fargo comes running into the room.

“Doctor Blake? We’ve got a situation.”

“Situation?” Allison waves her hand to lock her desk and all the e-paperwork she’s been shuffling through.

Fargo glances over at Zoe. “Doctor Malliard,” he says. “The aquatic research lab. He got bitten by one of his research seals and now he’s got gills.”

“Awesome,” Zoe says, grabbing her camera. “Let’s go.”

“You can’t come with us,” Fargo says, standing to block the door. “Doctor Blake, tell her she can’t come with us.”

“It’s a were-seal,” Zoe says. “I’m getting my video shown for sure if I get a were-seal on film.”

“There’s no such thing as a were-seal,” Allison says, automatically, and then turns to Fargo. “It’s just Dr. Malliard who’s been affected by this? And we’re sure the inciting incident was the bite?”

“Pretty sure,” Fargo says reluctantly. 

Allison looks over at Zoe, who’s wearing her most well-behaved expression.

“I won’t get in the way,” Zoe says. “I promise. Just let me get some footage of the were-seal.”

“It’s not a were-seal,” Allison says. “You promise you’ll stay by the door?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Zoe says.

“Okay,” Allison says. “But stay by the door. I can’t bring you back to your father with gills.”

* * *

Fargo complains all the way down to the aquatic research lab. Allison’s half-listening, but she’s more thinking about what she knows about Dr. Malliard’s research. He’s been using recombinant DNA techniques to regress seal oxygen exchange systems to let them use gills as well as lungs, so they can dive deeper into the ocean and stay down for longer.

This is the part of her job that Allison loves. Throwing herself into the challenge. It’s always something she wouldn’t have thought of — of course it is, because the disasters she sees coming in advance never get a chance to happen.

Which means that whatever the emergency of the day is involves some seriously interesting science. On a deadline.

It shouldn’t be an adrenaline thrill, but if Allison’s totally honest with herself… it is.

The aquatic research lab smells briny, with an overtone of dead fish and sweat. It’s not unpleasant, exactly, just pungent and oceanic. The main research area is set over a massive seal habitat. A small colony of seals are clustered off on the rocks in a corner, bobbing their heads nervously while a large, dark shape cuts through the water in their tank.

Dr. Malliard’s assistant, Dr. Prentiss, is looking down over the habitat. 

“He won’t come out,” she says.

Allison sighs. “Dr. Malliard is the one in the tank?”

“He’s been down there for twenty minutes,” Dr. Prentiss says.

“So he really does have gills,” Allison says. “You’d better tell me everything.”

It’s a story Allison’s heard many times before. Researcher has a great idea. Researcher’s assistant points out that maybe it’s an idea that could use a little more development time. Researcher declares assistant is afraid of progress and decides to experiment on himself, with… interesting results.

 At least this one isn’t likely to get out of the laboratory. Allison heads to the computer to start running the calculations for an antigenic patch to Dr. Malliard’s DNA. He’ll thank her when he’s human again.

“So he wasn’t bitten by a were-seal,” Zoe says from the doorway. She sounds disappointed.

  “What?” Dr. Prentiss shakes her head. “He wasn’t bitten by a seal at all.”

Zoe looks over her shoulder. “Fargo said —”

Fargo’s gone. Probably another only-in-Eureka crisis… or maybe, like Zoe, he was hoping for a were-seal.

Allison sighs and turns back to the computer. This one’s in her wheelhouse. They just need to get the patch written, and then it’s a matter of the molecular sequencer assembling the cure.

Dr. Prentiss gets a bucket of fish from a refrigerator in the corner and heads over to the seal colony. When she starts throwing the fish to the seals, Dr. Malliard bobs to the surface of the tank.

“Arf arf arf arf ARF,” he says. His gills are flared wide along his neck, and his throat looks swollen and enlarged. 

“You didn’t tell me he’d lost human language,” Allison says, and starts re-checking her genetic calculations to make sure the antigenic patch includes the higher brain functions.

“He didn’t.” Dr. Prentiss glares at him and goes back to feeding the seal colony. “It’s the language he invented to try to teach the seals to talk.”

Allison looks at the seals. They look interested in the fish. Not in the large human hogging their tank.

“ARF ARF ARF.” Dr. Malliard splashes water from the tank in the direction of Dr. Prentiss.

Allison sees Zoe creep into the room behind her, camera in one hand. Allison glares at her and Zoe takes a step back, but not quite to the doorway.

“Can he talk with the seals?” Allison asks.

“He thinks he can.” Dr. Prentiss sighs. “Actually the only one who can speak his seal-language is him. And me, a little.”

“So what’s he saying?”

“Death to the human oppressor,” Dr. Prentiss says. “Release my kinfolk and I to the wilds to feast on fresh fish. Or something like that.” She turns to Dr. Malliard. “The seals are scared of you, Artie! And you know you can’t release them to Lake Archimedes. The salinity’s all wrong for them and they’ll kill off the fish populations.”

“ARF arf arf,” Dr. Malliard says. “ARF.”

Dr. Prentiss and Dr. Malliard go on arguing, Dr. Prentiss in English and Dr. Malliard in Seal, while Allison finishes up the design for the antigenic patch and sends it to the molecular sequencer. 

Zoe sneaks back into the lab while Allison’s getting the molecular sequencer run set up, and Allison decides to turn a blind eye while Zoe gets footage of the seal colony, still nervously huddled on the rocks.

Allison’s worried that they’ll have to call in Carter or Lupo to wrestle Dr. Malliard into position for the administration of the cure. Fortunately, he’s so invested in the argument with Dr. Prentiss that he doesn’t even notice when Allison comes up behind him and injects his shoulder with the hypoderm. He keeps barking at Dr. Prentiss and then looks up, sharply, and slumps down to the floor. His neck pulsates, the gills slowly collapsing back into his skin.

“I’ll take him to the infirmary,” Dr. Prentiss says. “Thanks, Doctor Blake. If I had to listen to him bark about fish choices much longer —”

“Always happy to help,” Allison says. She makes a mental note to lock Dr. Malliard out of using the genomic assembly system until they can have a little chat about self-experimentation.

Zoe films the seals happily blubbing back to their tank and splashing back into the water.

“So?” Zoe asks, once the seals are back in their tank. “What’s the next crisis?”

“No next crisis,” Allison says. “It’s back to paperwork for me.”

* * *

“Did you ever think about doing something else?” Zoe asks, keeping the camera trained on Allison as they walk through the hallways. “Like, if you weren’t head of GD?”

Allison smiles. “I was a pretty good doctor. Maybe if things had worked out differently, I’d be doing that.”

“That’d be interesting,” Zoe says.

They arrive at Allison’s office. “Not like shadowing the head of GD?” Allison asks.

“I’m not bored,” Zoe says, automatically.

Allison looks down at her desk and then smiles at Zoe. “It’s not boring to me,” she says. “I save the day more here in the paperwork than I do in real life.”

“What?” Zoe looks up from the camera screen. “How?”

“I stop most of the accidents here,” Allison says, gesturing down at the e-paperwork on her desk. “You can’t film this, but come take a look.”

Zoe sets the camera down and comes over to look at Allison’s shoulder. 

“See?” Allison says, pointing down to a denied grant application which could have resulted in the release of velociraptor DNA into the local bee population. “That one could have been nasty.” She gestures to flip to another application. “This one could have drained Lake Archimedes and destabilized the town — Dr. Malliard wouldn’t have been happy about that. And take a look at this one.”

Zoe winces at that application. Dr. Sanders really should have known that research into dermatological applications of kudzu might have some safety concerns. 

“I know,” Allison says. “Some of the issues are obvious. But here’s another one.” Allison pulls up two sets of paperwork — totally normal grant applications on their own, but put them together in the same facility, and the radiomagnetic interference would be catastrophic.

Zoe studies the paperwork for a bit before she spots the issue. “Would that really —”

“The entire town,” Allison says, nodding. “And it’d take the power grid down, but there’d be nobody left to care by that point.”

Zoe shakes her head. “So this is what you do all day?”

“It’s one of the things,” Allison says. “Can’t catch everything, but I can try. And for the few things that slip past me… that’s where your dad comes in.”

Allison shows Zoe a few more near-misses, and then Zoe grabs the camera again and starts working through the questions for her career project.

They’re talking about Allison’s first experience with the DOD taking over and classifying a research project, back in her undergrad genetic design class, when Fargo comes back in.

“Dr. Blake?”

Allison sighs. “What is it, Fargo?”

“The teleastronomy group may have sent a signal to the wrong satellite,” Fargo says. “And now it’s maaaaaaybe trying to kill us.”

There are no normal days in Eureka. But for Allison, this one’s pretty close to typical.


End file.
